Cloak and Dagger
by SilasWhitfield
Summary: Elena Rosenthal is fresh out of the Office of Naval Intelligence academy and eager to start her field work on the lonely backwater planet of Quadraxis. But when a simple operation turns into a tangled web of betrayal, she questions her allegiance.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

This is a pretty rough fic I've been writing on and off for a while now, and as with most of my work I have not this slightest bloody clue where it is going, as it's not finished yet. I was kind of excited to break into the Halo fandom, I've been eyeing it for a while, looking for the best way to approach it. I'll be releasing what is written in parts, this is the first of four. Remember, if you review with constructive criticism, I can incorporate that into future updates. Reviews and feedback are very much appreciated.

Part 1

Stepping Off

The entire maglev train was empty, from the front to the back. This didn't particularly bother Elena, who had always liked silence. The best company to keep when you were a budding ONI graduate was your own thoughts. Right now her thoughts were a little frantic, and her heart beating faster than usual. The request had come through, complete with the ominous black little signature of the Station Chief, which made it all the more foreboding. It was exciting too, she thought, but right now anticipatory panic was the dominating emotion.

Did she remember all her courses? Small arms? Tailing? The finer application and concealment of bugging devices? Of course she knew them back to front, but no matter how many times she reassured herself of this calm did not come. Her first assignment, it was a red letter day, the first time she would get her feet wet in service of the Office of Naval Intelligence. The train was quite a lot less fancy than the transport at the academy, the seats were dirty and here and there little bits of plastic and paper were strewn, missed by a janitor. If it was a true military transport it would have been roughly scrubbed from top to bottom, but the UNSC had only recently constructed this base, and this was apparently the best they could find. Right now Elena was rushing away from the spaceport at a couple hundred miles an hour, headed for St. Creedy Army Reserve Center.

Mr. Creedy was apparently the first person to set foot on this planet, a dubious honor at best. Quadraxis IV rotated on a leisurely orbit of the star of the same name. If it had been an Earth-like planet it would have long ago frozen over, but in a paradoxical turn of events, the surface temperature was about 72 degrees at all times. The planet was covered in a noxious industrial fog, which would never have been tolerated in an inner colony, but whatever, this was the outer rim, and crazy shit happened out there. It was remote enough to keep away the journalists, most of them at least. From time to time you would hear about it, how the children went to school in intolerable air conditions, how crime was rampant, how at midday the sun was only a smudge behind the clouds. Even that news coverage was tapering off now, as the censors got harsher. The cities were the worst. Sunlight was blunted against this fog of smoke, and the light that did get through shone odd shades of orange and red. Respirators were the common on the street, and almost all buildings had air purifiers built standard.

Out here it was better, near the fringes. St. Creedy Army Reserve was nestled up against the one massive mountain range that burst through the crust for a few thousand miles in either direction, about one hundred miles from the largest city, Novosibirsk. Elena swore that her maglev had punched a clean hole through the smog as it left the city limits, hurtling down a lonely stretch of tracks for the looming mountains. All the excess water had long been shipped off-world after the ice melted, and entire cities had slowly sunk down to the bottom of the floodplain. There was no natural life here to speak of, and now that the water had been sequestered away there was only miles and miles of hard, cracked, mud flats, the occasional gust of sand rippling through the tiny fissures in the ground. It was a godforsaken place, no doubt about that, eerie and disconcerting.

Elena was jolted from her musings as a long fence and series of guard towers whipped past, and the train began to slow. A second fence flew by, this one constructed of permacrete, with more solid towers and little triangular mine warnings dotting the perimeter. Finally the transport ground to a halt in a large train yard, and the doors opened automatically. She patted her dress uniform off, and stepped onto the platform. Two grunts in full armor were sprawled on a bench, clearly enjoying the shade, their MA5 rifles leaning against the grey wall next to them. One of them spotted Elena and nudged the other. They grabbed their weapons and sauntered over to her, throwing up lazy salutes, which she returned.

"Ma'am, we've been expecting you. Follow me."

Elena trailed behind the soldiers as they stepped off the platform and made their way through the rail yard, which was crowded with troop trains and anti aircraft mounted battery carriages. Up ahead the main offices sat, one story and grey, sprawling over most of the complex. The barracks and vehicle depot sat over to the left and a small helipad took up the remaining space to the right. The two soldiers stopped at the front door and saluted again.

"This is as far as we go ma'am, the Station Chief is in the third wing, last door on the right."

"Thank you private, that will be all." Elena said and saluted back.

She didn't have to look as she stepped into the lobby, but she knew the marines eyes were on her. Even the rather baggy dress uniform couldn't totally hide her figure. She entered the hallway on the right marked Office of Naval Intelligence/Support Division Wing. It was remarkably quiet in here, and the only sounds besides the click of her shiny dress shoes on the linoleum was the occasional muffled ring of a telephone and mumbled words. She stopped before the last door on the right and knocked. A gruff voice spoke up from inside.

"Come in!"

Elena stepped in and closed the door behind her. She spotted the golden bird on the colonels shoulder and immediately snapped a salute.

"Second Lieutenant Elena Rosenthal reporting as ordered sir!"

The colonel smiled slightly and waved a hand in the general direction of his forehead.

"At ease. Have a seat."

He gestured to one of the plastic chairs that sat before his desk, which Elena took.

"Alright Lieutenant, straight to business I'm afraid. As you probably already know, I am Colonel Haverson, the section chief for Novosibirsk and the surrounding area. I've read your file, naturally, and I must say you have some of the most outstanding scores I've seen, and I've been running this shithole for quite a few years now."

The Colonel paused and sipped at a mug of coffee perched precariously on top of a stack of papers before continuing.

"I understand you're about as green as they come, but everyone has to start somewhere, and if we keep trying to weed out new blood, pretty soon there won't be anything left. Your assignment here on Quadraxis IV is to infiltrate a rebel cell in Novosibirsk. The objectives aren't all that clear at this stage. What we need, is actionable intelligence. How big of an outfit are they? Who do they report to? What kind of ordinance have they got their hands on? The last question is pretty damn important, for a number of reasons. Bombings and ambushes have been stepping up, not just here, but everywhere, across the globe, across the galaxy. This indicates that the insurrectionists are a lot better organized than we initially thought, which is troubling. We suspect there are moles at multiple levels in the army garrison stationed on Quadraxis."

Elena frowned. It was a serious situation, if true.

"Traitors sir?"

"Yep. Trust me, we ruled out all other alternatives first. Every month, more of our munitions find their way into rebel hands, and every time we engage them, it's on their terms, because they seem to have a sixth sense for where we'll be and when."

Haverson pushed a briefcase past cluttered stacks of paper towards Elena's side of the desk.

"Take it, but don't open it yet. You'll be bedding in the barracks with the regular infantry, we don't have any special four poster hammocks for ONI officers I'm afraid. That's where you should head next. After you get your personal items squared away, you'll meet your handler, and he'll give you the tactical briefing. Any questions?"

"No sir."

"Good, dismissed."

They saluted and Elena exited the room.

The barracks door banged shut behind her and Elena emerged into the well light building. Dozens of off-duty soldier looked up from card games, dice, pictures of family, and portable data-screens to give the new arrival a once over, before returning to their activities. Elena located an unoccupied bed and tossed her duffle next to it. She almost jumped out of her skin when a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around to see a very tall, thin man dressed in casual clothing standing there. He held out a hand, which she reluctantly shook.

"You must be the newbie, I'm Captain Hale."

Elena started to salute but he waved her off.

"Look, first rule here, don't salute, ever. A habit you make here is one you might do out of force of habit out there, and that would be disastrous."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just remember."

Elena nodded and then remembered the heavy black thing in her left hand.

"Oh, the colonel gave me a briefcase and-"

"Yeah, the little black box, I see it. Come with me and meet the rest of your team, you can unwrap your present there."

Hale began to walk at a brisk pace towards the door Elena had just entered. She tagged along, matching his long strides.

"I'll be working with a team?"

"Christ yes. What, did you think we were going to just let you lose on the streets of Novo without a few shoulder angels? Not likely."

The captain lead her across a small patch of ground to the vehicle depot. After inputting a code, the bulkhead rolled back to let them in. The inside of the depot was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Massive metal girders supported the roof and lighting. Barrels of fuel and countless trails of every hex wrench, spanner, and saw blade imaginable cluttered the sides. The long building was mostly empty, and tarps were thrown over the various Warthog variants, except for one, a white civilian van down at the far end, where clatters and various curses could be heard at length. Elena followed the captain as he sauntered over to the vehicle. Two other men were sitting in the vehicle, also dressed in civilians clothes, while a pair of legs stuck out from underneath the van.

"Fuck, Dirk, hand me the other wrench again, this one keeps slipping off the fucking bolt head."

Hale chuckled and gave the pair of legs a light kick.

"Hey Matahari, get out here, I want you meet our new field operative."

There was some shuffling and a dark skinned young woman wormed out from under the machinery, an oil smudge grazing her left cheek.

"Hi there. I'd shake your hand but I'm a little dirty at the moment."

"This is Matahari Belachi, our cryptographer, radio operator, and general tech guru. She keeps shit running, and she loves her job, despite what you might think."

Matahari nodded cheerfully. Hale turned and pointed to another, rather shorter man sitting behind the wheel of the drivers seat and reading a local newspaper.

"The man behind the wheel is Mike Brakkis. He's our getaway driver, and he's gotten us out of enough vehicular scrapes to earn a well deserved reputation. When the car's parked, he does odd jobs, surveillance, physical entry, blah blah blah."

Hale gestured to the back seat, where another, taller young man with sandy blond hair and freckles gave her a wave.

"See blondie in the back? That's Sam Dibbsy, and before you ask yes that is his real last name, and he likes it just fine, thank-you-very-much. Sam's our crack shot, he's a real bitch from a mile and a half away, as many an insurrectionist isn't around to tell you."

The captain turned back to her and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"For the rest of the team, this is Elena Rosenthal, our new resident cloak and dagger girl. If the academy is anything to go by, and it usually is, she's one hell of a spook."

Elena smiled and tried to look humble.

"And I, am the illustrious Captain James Hale, your boss and handler. Now as you may have guessed, things are pretty damn lax around here, and we like it that way, It helps the civilian cover. Nobody is Sergeant this or Lieutenant that, just names, alright? Except for me of course, I have to establish my leadership role over you barbarians."

The group chuckled and James continued.

"So call me Cap, or James, or whatever, just as long as you follow my orders and remember that I'm the Head Mother Fucker in Charge of Important Things, savvy?"

Elena nodded

"Absolutely."

"Great. Now for what must be your zillionth briefing today. Have a chair."

The captain pulled up a supply crate and Elena sat.

"Now, everyone on this team, including me is Special Activities Division. We're technically ONI, but really, we're a collection of sorry-ass grunts that the squids in orbit rustled up to help the real spies, namely you."

"So none of you are-"

"Nope. Surveillance and support is about as low key as we go I'm afraid, you're the one that has to do the real backstabbing. Speaking of which, why don't you see what dear old Colonel Haverson left you in that little box of yours."

Elena popped the latches and lifted the black lid. Inside, nestled in foam was an M6K subcompact pistol. A suppressor gleamed faintly next to it. James whistled.

"Wow, the only thing I ever got from Haverson was a good chewing out. He must really like you."

Elena ran her hand over the six round magazine and pursed her lips

"Yeah, I guess so..."

/End Part 1/


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Work of The Wettest Kind

Elena shielded her eyes from the harsh glare of Quadraxis' primary star. This ceased to become a problem as the maglev sped into the city limits and the light grew dimmer and dimmer. By the time the team had pulled up to a platform in the commercial district the light looked more like dawn than early morning. She was dressed in civilian clothing just like the rest of the team, and she had to suppress the urge to laugh at how odd they all looked out of their uniforms. None of them spoke to each other, and when the train car stopped they all disembarked casually, trying to look as disinterested as possible. Once in the square, they split up and disappeared into the crowd milling around on the platform. As she walked to the pre-planned address, Elena caught brief glimpses of the others from time to time, James in a ridiculous panama hat, walking with purpose and a hint of a strut, now disappearing behind a newspaper stand. Intelligence Doctrine and Strategy Basic seemed ridiculous to those whose lives had not yet been saved by its use, but Elena knew that the logic behind it was sound. Blending in anywhere was all about the first impression you gave. People's eyes had to see you and then forget you almost instantly. You had to be bland, conforming, and never in the same place twice. One could walk around un-questioned for hours inside a big industrial area with just a hardhat and a clipboard. Psychology was as much use as force in ONI work, and it showed.

Elena was the last to reach the building. On the front it looked like some kind of mechanic or parts depot. The property was fenced off with barbed wire and an automatic gate. Antennas concealed inside dummy smokestacks reached towards the sky and a plastic trash bag fluttered around the empty parking lot. Overall, it looked like a place that, if it could talk, would tell you that it was none of your goddamn business and didn't really do anything interesting anyway so bugger off.

The gate opened and closed behind her and a dusty security camera hummed gently as it tracked her movement. She walked up a few metal stairs and knocked. A few seconds later James pulled the door open and ushered her inside. The interior was drastically different than the outside hinted. The walls had a fresh coat of paint, there was not a hint of decay anywhere and the stone floor was carefully swept.

"Welcome to ONI safe house number 615. All the living area stuff, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, are upstairs. Garage is to your right coming in, the armory is in there too, and to your left is the communications room. I'd give you a tour but we have a schedule to meet and you haven't been fully briefed yet."

Elena followed James into the garage, where the white van was sitting like something much more innocuous than it was, tinted windows and all. James closed the door behind them and put a small little cube down on the floor, which started to glow faintly. Elena recognized it as an anti-bugging device. They were worth more than she earned in a year, maybe two.

"Alright. Now, I won't lie, there was some debate over how to get you into the rebel cell originally, but after some frantic digging we found you an backdoor."

The captain held out a photograph and she took it. It was taken on archaic film, the kind only used to circumvent anti-electronic devices. The twenty something man in the photograph was tall, lean, and, she had to admit, pretty handsome. Short black hair covered his head and threatened to break out along his jaw. Bright blue eyes surveyed an area off-camera intently, as though waiting for something. He was immaculately dressed, a perfectly ironed suit hung a little loose on his shoulders and his shoes appeared to be newly shined.

"That, is the best picture we have of a man named Alex Pinkerton. Of course, that's a nom de guerre, we don't have any clue what his real name is, he has so many fake ones. We don't know where he was born, where he went to school, who his family were, nothing, he's a man completely off the grid. He first popped on to our radar a few years ago as a professional crook of the highest distinction. The Eridanus Law Enforcement Agency actually had to appeal to Colonial Administration Security because they were having major trouble apprehending him. Now mind you, CoAdSec takes their job pretty damn seriously, so it was a bit of a surprise when they too came back empty handed. Something like five raids, and each time, nothing there except a mocking little note and maybe a sandwich wrapper which of course turned up negative for genetic material. He gave the finger to the Colonial Authority, and shit, were they mad. So they went one step higher and contacted FleetCom. FleetCom! Because of one white collar criminal! Well, FleetCom reviewed the case and handed it off to us, ONI Special Activities Division. Naturally we cracked the case in about three months, tracked him here to Quadraxis. Apparently he'd had a fling with the Insurrectionists and was running their books, plus helping them get money and valuable contacts on the side. We caught him, took him in, and worked out a deal. He would provide his extensive knowledge of rebel activity and boost an ONI operative into the ranks of the Insurrectionists in exchange for amnesty. He couldn't exactly refuse, by that time he was wanted on everything from wire fraud to kidnapping."

"And I'm going to go meet this guy?"

"Meet him, work with him, rub his belly, whatever it takes. I have to warn you, he's a fucking prodigy. He is easily one of the smartest people in the Orion arm of the galaxy and he knows it too, God help us that he ended up being such a bastard. Don't take anything he says as the truth, he's clever as hell, and he knows how to press people's buttons, I've seen it. Likewise, don't take anything he says for granted. In general, just keep your head about you, pay attention to what he's saying and how he says it. Someone like him would get kick out of playing both sides against each other."

"What, you think he's playing us?"

James grinned

"I think we're both trying to play each other."

The van turned onto another residential avenue, this one a dead end. White and grey colonial houses lined the block, each with its own little variation on the average two story suburban dwelling. At the apex of the cul-de-sac was one of these houses. Two men sat on the front porch in rocking chairs, surveying the street. James pulled up into the small driveway and parked. They got out and approached the house. James stood on the top porch stop and nodded to the two men.

"Wilson, Edgecombe, this is Lieutenant Rosenthal, the ONI spook I called about yesterday, she's here to see Pinkerton."

"Not so loud sir, we had some suspicious characters snooping around earlier, probably Insurrectionists."

"Shit, they know where he is..."

"Yeah, they just walked down and around the block again, carrying a briefcase, probably a concealed camera."

"You need any backup?"

Wilson shook his head and rested a hand on a black shape tucked under a blanket next to him.

"We've got plenty of firepower if it comes to that, but I don't think it will. We'll just have to move him to the safe house first thing tomorrow morning, possibly tonight."

James nodded and began to head back to the car.

"Alright, keep your eyes peeled, I've got other things to do. If you need a pickup call me on the satellite link, don't use a landline, it might be tapped."

The door slammed and the van pulled out of the driveway and rumbled off down the street. The man named Edgecombe pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"He's upstairs, knock before you come out the front door again."

Elena stepped through the white wooden door and closed it softly behind her. The house was dead quiet, save for the hum of a refrigerator and the distant sound of children playing. Motes of dust floated through the air and reflected the noon sun coming through the blinds. Cautiously she ascended the carpeted staircase until she emerged onto a landing. Tentatively, she called out.

"Hello?"

From a closed door at the end of the hall, a voice answered.

"In here."

Elena's feet tread softly over the carpet and pushed the door open. The room inside was better furnished than the rest of the house, but only slightly. A bed was nestled in the far corner, a nightstand with various watches stood next to it. Alexander Pinkerton sat low in a high backed swivel chair, his feet perched up on a desk, looking intently at a data screen. He spun the chair to face her and sat up straighter, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked a little older than the photograph she had seen. His hair was untidy and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Well don't gawp, it's not polite. Sit down, I expect you want something."

"You could say that."

Elena walked over to the chair that was indicated and sat down. Pinkerton was silent for a moment, his eyes boring holes into hers. She repressed a shiver; those blue irises seemed almost like entities of their own.

"Second Lieutenant Elena Rosenthal, third child of four, two brothers and a sister, born on Luna, raised in relative affluence, joined the Officer Candidate School and graduated into ONI Section Three near the top of your class, second highest marks if I recall correctly."

Elena tried to keep her face impassive and think up a retort at the same time, but instead all that followed was a stony silence. For a while neither of them spoke, then when it became apparent that he was waiting for a response, she broke the silence.

"Captain Hale tells me you can get me into the Insurrection." 

Alex took a deep drag and ashed into a small glass tray beside the darkened data screen.

"And for once, James is telling the truth. I can indeed do this, but there need to be ground rules you understand, you can't just go willy nilly into something like this and expect to last more than a few days, a rebel is a paranoid creature by nature, and with good reason."

"I'm listening."

Elena was actually getting pretty tired of sitting in chairs and listening at this point, but then again, Pinkerton probably was too.

"First thing you should know, you tell me about everything you do, every move you make once you're inside. Preface every action with the question: What would dear uncle Pinkerton do? Second thing, this is bigger than you, or me, or the Insurrection. The UNSC is getting nasty, and there isn't a right a wrong side anymore, just people who hate other people for really stupid reasons."

"The rebels have killed millions of people! That's evil!"

The end of his cigarette glowed and Alex exhaled another large cloud of blue smoke.

"Evil is a paradigm, a point of view. I guarantee you, if ColAdSec hadn't stepped in, most of those same people would still be breathing. Third thing, if we're going to work together, you need to keep an off the record line of communication with me."

"That, I won't do. The UNSC is my boss, and keeping anything from them is punishable by death or life in prison."

"I know a hell of a lot more about the way ONI's black little heart beats than you do I'm afraid, and that's ironic considering you're a goddamn field operative, and I'm the dastardly ne'er-do-well. They use you just as much as you use me, understand? They pretend they're giving this investigation to you and James' team, but the second something goes any direction they feel is imprudent, you will be re-assigned and nobody will ever hear from me again."

"So what?"

Alex put out his cigarette and crossed his arms.

"So I don't want to end up spending my last moments alive choking on a black bag, that's what, and if I'm going to help you screw the rebels over, you have to promise me you will do everything in your power to ensure that your boss doesn't shoot me the second he gets what he wants."

"You think the ONI won't honor their end of the bargain?"

"I know they won't. I wouldn't."

The thought had never crossed her mind, but maybe this was what James had warned her about, maybe Pinkerton was just playing her to get something, but if he was she couldn't tell. Behind the veneer of calculated smugness there was a definite hint of panic.

"Alright, fine. You will get me in, and I will cover your ass when this whole thing wraps up."

Pinkerton nodded and extended a hand, which she shook.

"Alright, now that's out of the way, here's the skinny on the local cell."

/End Part 2/


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Johnny Goodlaw

As she watched silently from the back seat she could see Mike Brakkis getting more annoyed by the second. Alex was fiddling incessantly with the rather impressive set of controls in the front passenger seat, and Elena could just about see the heat rising from his shaved head. Finally, when Pinkerton accidentally hit the switch for a frigid blast of air conditioning, Mike lost it. Craning over in his seat he bellowed into the offending mans face at point blank range.

"WILL YOU STOP FUCKING WITH THE CAR!"

"Alright, Christ..."

Pinkerton retreated back into his seat and slumped a little, looking offended. Elena suppressed a giggle. Over the past few weeks she'd gotten know Alexander Pinkerton better, and found she actually enjoyed his razor wit and acerbic attitude, it was a nice change from the hustle and bustle of living under the thumb of a government agency. They had moved him in the middle of the night to the safe house and he had been wreaking social havoc ever since. Unfortunately, now that he was no longer mandated by his line of work to be polite and sociable, the team was rapidly tiring of him.

The van turned down onto a mostly deserted lane and Mike pulled to the curb. After briefly scanning the surrounding industrial warehousing with his eyes, he nodded to Elena.

"This is your stop ladies and gentlemen. I'll be waiting around the corner."

Elena pulled open the sliding door and stepped onto the street and adjusted the miniature bud in her ear and let her neck length hair down to cover it. Mike's tinny voice crackled through.

"Radio check, channel 3, how do you read?"

"I read you loud and clear." Elena responded

The van pulled silently away around the corner and vanished into the smoky blackness. Alex motioned to her and they moved off silently through an open gate into a scrap yard. Piles of rusted metal and various heavy industrial parts lay sprawled throughout the yard, resting on what few patches of bleached grass remained. Up ahead a light shone through a crack in the warehouse door. Alex knocked twice. There were murmured voices and footsteps before the door slid open a crack, and then enough to admit a person. A gruff voice issued forth.

"Get in here."

Pinkerton stepped in first and Elena followed, trying to keep her heart rate down. The door clanged shut behind her and she examined her surroundings. The voice belonged to a mustached man in a dock worker's overall. A dim yellow light filtered down from a trio of ancient bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The room was packed with crates, miscellaneous machinery, and scraps of metal, all shapes and sizes. Two other men stood leaning against stacks of crates, their faces obscured by shadow. Pinkerton nodded respectfully and gestured to her.

"I found you a source inside the company, just like you asked."

She went over the cover story in her head one last time.

"Great. Here's the shopping list."

The man handed Pinkerton a small chip, which he took and put into his PDA. Words scrolled over the screen and Elena saw his eyes roaming over them at a mile a minute.

"I know it's a little expansive, but we need it as soon as possible."

"Titanium-A, Hydrazine, tubing, Christ, what are you building, a Frankenstein monster?"

"You know I can't tell you, so don't ask."

Pinkerton gave one of his signature Cheshire cat grins and folded the data pad into his pocket.

"Of course, because that's classified. You know, you should take care you don't turn into the very people you're trying to kill."

The mustached man snorted derisively

"What do you care? As long as you get your cut right?"

Pinkerton chuckled.

"You have me there old boy, no denying I have a sweet tooth for large bank accounts. Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have the credits we discussed hiding somewhere around here would you?"

The man beckoned to one of the shadowy figures, who stepped briefly into the light to hand Pinkerton a silver briefcase, just long enough for Elena to see the burn scars along his right cheek. Alex popped open the case and surveyed it ponderously.

"Not to bite the hand, but aren't you about ten thousand short?"

"Half now, half if she turns out to be a reliable source."

Alex waggled a finger at the man.

"Oh you sly dog you. Can't really blame you though, with an offer this good, I'd be suspicious too."

In the distance dogs began barking at a police siren.

"Well I can't say I'm happy about relying on greedy bureaucrats to get my materials, but times are tight."

Pinkerton swiveled round to Elena with a mock scandalized look on his face.

"Do you hear that? They called you a bureaucrat!"

"You're not any better, Pinkerton. A criminal and a slippery little weasel."

"Cold blooded murder and treason are crimes too you know, I haven't killed nearly as many people as you have, you trigger happy little guerrilla you."

"We serve a higher purpose than money, which you would realize if you-"

The man froze midsentence. The sirens had not dissipated, but rather grown louder and more numerous. Even now the sound was rising rapidly in volume. Panic etched itself onto every face in the room. Alex Pinkerton's fingers twitched nervously on the handle of the briefcase.

"You think that's for us?"

"It can't be... I didn't tell anyone where I was going! Not even them!"

A quiet, tinny voice in Elena's ear spoke up, almost making her jump.

"Elena! Are you there? There's a whole mess of squad cars out here, they'll be all over you any second now, get the hell out of there!"

Elena frantically nudged Pinkerton.

"We need to split, right now."

The mustached Insurrectionist was looking at them with rapidly narrowing eyes.

"I should have known."

"Known what?"

"I should have known there was no way anyone could escape ONI custody like that and just "show up" the next day with a business deal. I always figured you for a rat, it was right up your alley."

The man with the burn scars stepped back out of the shadows, this time leveling a high caliber pistol at Pinkerton's forehead. He took a step back and Elena whipped out her sidearm.

"Drop it asshole!"

The barrel swiveled to point at her, and the other man drew his gun as well. The sirens were now echoing off the walls, and they could hear feet crunching on gravel. The three men took one look at each other and bolted towards the back of the warehouse. Elena did not give chase, and a few seconds later the door flew off it's hinges and a swarm of metro cops burst in, screaming at them to drop the weapon and get on the ground.

Elena had never seen Captain James Hale this mad. Even now his echoing phone conversation with the police department carried all the way to the kitchen, where she was sitting. Pinkerton sat across from her, nervously trying to light a cigarette with survival matches, the only source of flame he could find. At length he dropped the box exasperatedly and walked over to the ancient natural gas stove, where he lit it on the pilot light. After a brief pause in which she could hear James pacing, he started shouting again.

"Is this Miller? Well then, I've got a pretty big bone to pick with you, you fucking cretin! Let me ask you a serious question. What the fuck do we pay you for? No really, why the fuck does your fat ass get a retainer that big if all you do is sit in your plush office and systematically FUCK OVER OUR FIELD OPERATIVES! How many goddamn times did I tell you not to raid that warehouse? How many times did I tell you to pay those people off? No wait, don't answer that, I know this one: ABOUT THREE THOUSAND FUCKING TIMES! If you were a proper employee, I would have court marshaled your ass so fast, it would make your head spin, but instead I'll do this. If you somehow manage to fuck things up- no, shut up and listen to me here, this is important -if you botch one more of my operations, I will have a group of my people come down there and do things to you the likes of which you cannot even begin to comprehend on the basis that you are a rebel informant and a traitor. Am I making myself very clear? Good, now piss off."

A ringing silence followed, and a red faced Captain stalked into the kitchen. Even Pinkerton abstained from making a jab at him. James sat, and put his head in his hands. After a few tense seconds he sat up straight and spoke.

"Well, that's he end of that. Stupidity just sunk our infiltration op. Now, we have to do this the old fashioned way."

Elena stared into the smooth wood of the table

"So where do we start?"

She was surprised when Pinkerton appeared at her elbow, cigarette in one hand, PDA in the other.

"Right here."

He pressed a button and set the miniature computer down. A pale blue hologram projected itself a few inches off the table, depicting a list of text.

"I've been studying the shopping list of items he wanted, and I have discovered something."

With a thumb and forefinger, he manipulated the image to expand, so that the text was clearly visible.

"Hydrazine, the main ingredient in Archer missile propellant. Titanium-A, the most common starship armor in the galaxy. Type-26 lithium ion cells, used exclusively to power a ships secondary systems when reactor power fails. I would go on, but you get the point. They have a ship, and they're making her very pretty indeed."

James looked dumbfounded.

"A military vessel? For a local terrorist group?"

Pinkerton shrugged.

"It happens all the time out here in the outer rim. The Eridanus rebels practically have their own fleet, albeit one made up of ships a century outdated and held together with spit and prayers. They stay under the radar, and the UNSC occasionally poaches one or two when they can."

"How the hell do they afford something like that?"

Pinkerton threw his head back and laughed

"Afford? That's a good one! They didn't pay for it, they probably stole it, right out of the hanger."

"But how? Something that big doesn't just go missing without a stir, or at least a record somewhere."

Pinkerton's grin faded.

"That's where I'm going to need your help. There wasn't any record of a ship missing that fits a terrorist mode of operation, but there was a lot of data in the same category that was wiped around that time, and it stinks of UNSC AI's."

"You think there was a theft and they covered it up?"

"Yeah. Probably a military hanger bay. Someone took it out for a drive and never came back, and the UNSC is too embarrassed about it to admit it. Hell, if someone stole a thing the size of a mountain from under my nose, I'd be pretty ashamed too."

"So what do you need from us?"

Alex bit his lower lip

"Well... The codes to the ONI database would about do it."

James crossed his arms and sat back in his chair

"Absolutely not! If I gave you those codes and anyone ever found out, none of us would live to see the sun rise again. You can fuck with the ONI, tease them, sue them, even shoot at them, but NEVER encroach upon their private data without authorization. That will get you killed, plain and simple. They will call up a local wet work team and splatter you all over kingdom come."

Alex leaned forward

"You want to solve this case?"

"I want to live to solve cases in the future."

"You didn't answer me, do you want to solve this case?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then give me those codes."

It was James' turn to bit his lower lip. His fingers drummed the table and he looked agitated for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket and slid a small moleskin notebook across the table.

"You stole them right out of my room. I had no clue they were gone until days later."

Pinkerton picked the booklet up daintily and stood up from his chair.

"You got it."

He turned to exit the room, but James held up a hand.

"Do not screw up. This is your only warning."

Alex retrieved his coat from a hook on the wall and spread out his arms.

"Come on, who am I?"

"Yeah yeah..."

"I'm Alexander Pinkerton! Discretion is the plasma that holds my blood together."

With that, he was out and onto the street, closing the door behind him. James let his head fall wearily back into his hands.

"What the hell did I just let loose?"

Elena smiled into her mug of coffee.

"I wouldn't worry, I think he likes playing spy too much to just sell that codebook and vanish."

"For the sake of many more years in this life, I hope you're right."

/End Part 3/


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: Thanks for sticking around thusfar, hope you're enjoying, don't forget to rate and review after reading.)

Part 4

The Birds and the Moles

The buzzing of the alarm clock forcefully penetrated Elena's veil of sleep, and she shot a hand out from under the covers and switched it off. The blue numbers on the clock read five thirty. After resting on the pillow for a few more minutes she pushed herself out of bed, got dressed and went down to the kitchen. To her surprise, the rest of the team was already there, finishing breakfast. James indicated a chair without looking up. Elena sat down and he folded up the newspaper he had been reading.

"We have a new assignment."

Elena grabbed an imported fruit from the center of the table and started to eat it methodically.

"Doing what?"

"I got a call from Haverson, just after you went to bed. They found another mole, this one's pretty high up. A First Lieutenant, in charge of a weapons factory on the other side of town. Apparently some shipping manifests didn't match up, and they did some digging. Turns out he's been selling a portion of his quota to Insurrectionists."

"How sure are they?"

"You know the ONI, they're more methodical than diabolical, I have no doubt they've done their homework."

"So what does Haverson want us to do?"

"Kill 'em."

Elena stopped chewing.

"What?"

"You don't have any problems with that do you?"

The academy had prepared her for just such an occasion, when she would be asked to commit murder in the name of greater peace and security. She knew the order had probably come down from the Director himself, but she still hesitated.

"No, no problems."

"Good. I'll explain the particulars on the way over."

Mrs. Tate bent over and plucked another weed from the soil. They were really atrocious things, they grew like wild fire and strangled her beautiful Magnolias that she had spent so long growing, no easy feat in this atmosphere.

But it was something to do, and at her advanced age, small things took on new meaning. Besides the pollution and backwater nature, it was actually a pretty nice place to live. It was nice and quiet, and since she lived out here on the edge of the city, some days the smog would peel back and the sun would shine down on her garden.

Slowly she straightened up and walked over to the front step where she had a glass of lemonade waiting. She sipped it and looked over the suburban street. It was quiet an affluent neighborhood, and there were a lot of officers, both executive and military living here. Her eyes gravitated to a white van that was moving rather rapidly down the street. It slid up next to the curb, braked suddenly and the door slid open.

A tall thin man and a young woman with black hair exited and strode towards the house three doors down from her. She stepped farther out towards the street to get a better view. The man knocked twice on the door and the young woman stepped to the side, out of view.

Mrs. Tate realized she knew the house. It belonged to a man named Mr. Stevens, a young army officer of some sort, although she had never found out his first name or actual job, having only met him once during a garden party. A woman who was probably his wife answered the door, and despite her failing hearing, Mrs. Tate could hear all that was said.

"Hello?"

The tall man adopted a cheery smile

"Hi there, is Lieutenant Stevens in?"

"Yes, he's around back, may I ask who you are?"

"I'm Andrew Miller, a friend from work, I was wondering If I could talk to him?"

"Oh, well, alright, I'll go and get him then."

Mrs. Stevens closed the door and the man's smile melted away and he turned his back on the doorway. It was almost frightening. Mrs. Tate felt that something was deeply wrong here, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. There was silence for a few moments and then the door re-opened. Mr. Stevens stepped out and started to approach the tall man.

"Hey Miller! I wondered when you were going to come round, did you get stuck in traffic?"

The tall man turned around and the smile faded from Mr. Stevens face.

"Hey, you're not Mi-"

In an instant the black haired young woman moved forward and pushed something long and silver into Mr. Steven's neck. He wobbled on his feet and went limp, the two bracing his fall. With each putting a hand under his armpits they dragged him back to the van. The sliding door opened once more and another pair of arms pulled him in. The two people stepped into the van and slammed the door closed. Tires screeched and the vehicle accelerated away.

"Fuck, he's already coming around. Elena, how much did you put in that syringe?"

"10cc's"

"That should be about right, maybe he's just resistant."

"It's not going to make much of a difference in a few minutes."

"You have a point."

The man was already starting to fidget against his handcuffs as Captain Hale helped her drag the man down the hall. They turned into a small square room with concrete walls, completely barren of anything save for a large sheet of plastic spread out on the floor. Elena dumped the man onto this and he immediately struggled to his knees. James stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"The court will now come to order, the Honorable Captain James Hale presiding!"

Elena pushed down on the man's shoulders to keep him from rising to his feet.

"You see, it's funny because we're acting as judge, jury, and execu-"

"The humor was not lost on me sir."

"Well that's good to know, it's not often I get to crack something like that."

James bent over the captive officer, who was still trying to get up, the sedative keeping him from exerting his full strength.

"Hey. HEY! Look at me. You see that door? Solid steel. Three inches, hollow and filled with sand. This room could survive a bomb blast, there is no fucking way you are getting out of here, so just relax, okay?"

The man stopped struggling and hung his head, tears started to stream down his face and Elena could hear muffled sobs coming from underneath the gag. She raised the pistol and motioned James out of the way.

"Easy tiger, I have to read this spiel first, make it official and whatnot."

James stepped to the corner and cleared his throat.

"First Lieutenant Adam J Stevens, you are hereby convicted of the following charges: high treason, conspiracy to commit treason, aiding and abetting a known enemy of the UNSC and her protectorates, and forgery. For these crimes you have been sentenced this day, April 2nd 2520, to be executed by firing squad."

Stevens started to shake, his whole body shivering in great waves as another round of sobs racked him. Elena raised the pistol and set her teeth. She would think back, in later years, to exactly how easy it was, taking this man's life. The trigger pulled back, just like it had for years on the firing line. A loud _**chack**_ reverberated around the room and the young officer slumped over onto the plastic sheet with a faint gurgle, a neat hole in his neck issuing red. James whistled.

"Nice shot, dead center. Gimmie a hand with the cleanup."

In a bit of a daze, Elena holstered the weapon and helped James roll the sheet up, and tuck in the ends. They took it out of the room and tossed the whole thing into an incinerator positioned strategically inside the garage. James waved a hand in front of her face.

"Hey, you alright?"

Elena nodded.

"I think so."

"You don't get to do shit like that in the Army, that's for sure."

The front door closed with a bang and Pinkerton skidded into the kitchen, eyes alight. James looked up from his mug in surprise.

"Christ, I was beginning to think that you had just booked it. Where the fuck were you, I was calling you for ages!"

"Digging, now shush. I've just finished doing a job that would put a Private Eye to shame, and I'm dying for some oohs and aahs."

It was a rare man that could tell Captain James Hale to "shush" and walk away unscathed. Then again, Pinkerton wasn't run of the mill by any standard. Alex sat down at the table and emptied out a large manila folder. With thumb and forefinger he picked up the top five pieces of paper and shoved them towards James and Elena.

"These are communications transcripts between the dock master and Vice Admiral Tokugawa, and the regional security director. There's a lot of bluster, but essentially he's telling him to keep his mouth shut about a ship that disappeared from the hanger without filling out the proper electronic certificate."

Alex light a cigarette and continued to browse through, occasionally pulling out a piece of paper and pushing it under their nose. He had been a busy boy.

"This is dated about six months ago, a communiqué between Tokugawa and the Admiral of he Prowler Corps, detailing a single ship to his jurisdiction on Quadraxis. Aaand all this here-"

He laid a whole stack in front of them, almost an inch thick

"-is all of my transcripts with the dock master's AI. She was quite an informative gal, I guess you get bored being cooped up with nothing to do but handle cool downs and maintenance all your life. She gave me a complete readout on the missing ship in question, a UNSC Sub-Prowler called the Archaeopteryx. It was the first ship in a new generation of ONI stealth recon vessels, active camouflage, radar ablative coating, all sorts of goodies."

James leafed through the first few pages and then set it aside.

"So you mean to tell me that the Insurrection has just successfully stolen one of the most advanced ships in the navy, and no one is talking about it?"

"Oh they launched their own investigation all right, but they relied too much on the local cops who honestly don't get paid nearly enough to give a fuck. They made some half-hearted attempts at tracking it, but eventually they just wrote it off as a total loss."

"My god... If we reel this in, Section 3 will bend over backwards. Promotions, pay raises, how often is it that you can pull something like this out of the bag? We'll practically be rock stars. Where is it?"

Pinkerton shook his head

"Scranton-Filch Dockyards, hanger 16. It's hidden inside a super-freight container.

James scooped up all the files into the manila folder and closed the flap.

"Alright, I'll go wake up the team."


End file.
